said. "Say, that was comical! This fel- low was in the act, too. He was the Gen- eral-you know, sitting on the horse- when I was Fame. Well, one night we all get stiff in a bar and this fellow called Babe and me a tramp. We didn't say nothing at the time, but the next night when he's the General and I'm Fame and Babe is some kind of an angel or As for fox terriers (wire ) , m y favorite mutt nimp or something laying on the ground behind the horse, she takes this hig pin Is I umpin' s I udy Pudy W hut. and sticks the horse in his backside. Well, I'm hardly out of the way before he's down off the stand and like a bat out of hell for the exit. The General can't hardly keep on a horse staying still, so he gets tossed off in one of the boxes. He busted four ribs. "Well," she said, with another of her dark and inexplicable changes of mood, "I ain't a tramp, and I don't want to have to tell you again, Milty, that's all. " "But I didn't-" " L . " h . d . et It pass, s e sal magnanImous- ly. The rumble in the lion's throat had been growing steadily stronger and now it deepened into a passable roar. He flicked his paw tentatively at the bars, which rattled ominously. "Pipe down, you," said Mildred. "Say, maybe we better-" "You, too, Milty," said Mildred, speaking with some difficulty because the neck of the bottle was in her mouth. "Both of you. Pipe down." There could be no mistake this time about the lion's roar, and he lunged heavily against the bars. "\tVell, for God's sake," said Mil- dred dIsgustedly. She had been smoking a cigarette, and when the lion roared again she threw it irritably toward the cage. "Lay down, screwball," she said. As Milton watched with dismay, the shouted. "Shut up, shut up, SH"CT up!" sihility with hOl ror, but there were other cigarette curved through the air, be- "My God," whispered Milton, "he's emotIons, too. tween the bars, and hit the lion sharply breaking the damn thing down!" on the nose. A little shower of sparks She didn't hear him or, hearing, paid enveloped his head, glowed, and went no attention. out. "I'll fix the crazy bastard! " she cried For a moment nothing happened, and passionately, and while he watched in then the lion exploded. They could see agony she scrambled down out of the him only dimly, a black and mon- car and picked up one of the buck- strous shape, tearing at the bars, cts of water. hut his intentions were clear and Milton waited for no more. He awful. The roaring had given vaulted down out of the car and way to a strangled, deadly snarl, and fled desperately into the darkness. For sometimes he spit like a cat. Beneath a little while, as he ran, he could hear these louder sounds Milton could hear Mildred arguing with the lion, but pres- the even more paralyzing groan and entlyall sound died away. It occurred creak of the tortured bars. Mildred add- to him that this might mean that the ed her own frail voice to bedlam. lion had got Mildred and was eating "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she her. He thought of this gruesome pos- THE NEW YORKER 2? LINéS INSPIRED BY A PERUS AL OF THE AMERICAN KENNEL CLUB STUD BOOK Herewithem Short Pants is the pointer that takes my fancy, Winning by a lash over Lamargil's Go-Bang Nancy. Of the setters (Irish), I like Lady M ck of Shenstone best. Shame on D'ignity of Ulster and to hell with Plymouth's Mae West. You can have the greyhounds Will-.II.h-Do-U, He's .II. Chisler, Ioe Di Mag: With their owners it's anything for a gag. It's all right to name a Doherman pinscher Baron Bruno von Brandenburg or eVen Baron von Butcher or just plain Sandy, But Baron lack Dempsey gets all my poisoned candy. For the people who name spaniels (cocker) I can only blush: Imagine having a dog named J?udge Sundae, 1l1uftididdle, Sookie Dove, or Sani Flush. I'll accept as German shepherds Duchess Still Wie Die N acht and E zzo A us Dem Saalbau and even Prince 0' Pals' H ektor, But I think King Edward IV is in the wrong sector. Of the Great Danes, I pick Dusty von W ienerschnitzel as a ruling aristocrat, And as far as I'm concerned Beta Pledge of Lambda Sigma can go right back to the frat. I wouldn't have the spaniels (springer) Lily Pop, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Hillcrest Gypsy Rose Lee. I. Wellington Wimpole is the one for me. It would hand me a good laugh If the Sealyham My Terrior Baby took a good bite out of its owner's calf. I like Samuel P. Pipsqueak, Maclean Sourmugg, Captain Drizzlepuss, and even Captain Courageous, But I hope what it takes to name a bulldog Mama's I ckle Bickle is not con tagious I'll bet Auld-Reekie Romance and Impudent lV oggles and Mister Tf/ affles M cBeans and Tiny Wee Bit 0' Pride are very unhapp) : If I were a Scottish terrier, I'd rather be called Snappy. -ARTHUR BARTLETT . . W HEN Milton Barker got back to the yard office, haggard, panting, mysteriously encrusted with mud and straw, the yardmaster looked at him curiously. " w 11 ". , . e , you cert n y aln t wastIng no time, Milty," he said admiringly. "How'd you make out? Them babies treat you all right?" Milton gave him a secret smile, im- plying many fascinating things. "What do )'OU think, Pop " he said darkly. Somewhere down in the yard Robert rraylor laughed his mad, derisive laugh- ter. -WOLCOTT GIBBS